


"Kiss me like that"

by asweetdepravity



Category: Armipace, RALP - Fandom, Richard Artmitage/Lee Pace, Richlee - Fandom
Genre: Canon, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, kiss, subtle angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweetdepravity/pseuds/asweetdepravity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One photo.<br/>One text.<br/>One couple.<br/>Two places apart.</p>
<p>Sometimes, it pays to be foolish and reckless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Kiss me like that"

* * *

 

Lee heaves a loud sigh, drops the phone onto the bed and watches it bounce- once, twice. He bends his knees, sinks down onto the bed. The softness of the sheets does little to offer him comfort. 

Heat is radiating off the device, tell-tale signs of the conversation he just had- _there_ , right beside his cheek. He runs a hand through his unruly mop of hair and lets his eyes drift shut. He can still hear Richard's voice; _close_ , ringing in his ear. 

 

_"Are you out of your mind?!"_

_Oh- that went well._

_"Well, hello to you too. It's nice to hear your voice, Rich. How's Toronto? How's filming? Say hi to Bryan for me."_

_"Lee."_

_He knows that tone._

_The way Richard's voice dips lower, suggesting that he's completely unamused. Lee lets out a huff of air, shoulders slacking and his gaze turned downwards. He doesn't like how it makes him feel, the gap in their ages becoming evident, the distance becoming so much more than physical. It makes him feel childish- silly, inadequate._

_It's his fingers. He blames them for refusing to listen to rationale; taking sides with the impulses of his heart and not his mind. Never, never his mind._

_He still blames them._

 

_"Hey, it's a cute picture," Lee's laughter sounds more like a snort, a last ditch attempt to clutch at his fraying confidence. Unlike Richard, he was never good with rationale._

_"That's not the point."_

_"Well I- No. What was the point again?" Richard lets out a long exhale at the other end of the line. It's not the picture, Lee tells himself. He must have caught him at a bad time. "Yes- Maybe, maybe that was the point. Maybe not?" It's not the picture, it's the difficult character Richard's immersed in right now. It's definately not **him**. "Comeon Rich- it's **just** a picture." _

_"Its just a picture? Are you joking?" Richard huffs, and Lee squeezes his eyes shut. He's not there with Richard, but he can see him- knot between his brows, the tired creases lining his blue eyes. The grim set of his lips. " **You**  sent it to me- it's not **just a picture.** " _

_Richard's british accent sounds ten times heavier, each word more pronounced than the other. The snap and bite of his tongue- he sounds exactly like this when he's at a war of words with his manager. When he's goddamned exhausted and still pushing himself._

_"Ya-knowwhat? Forget about the picture Rich."_

_Richard laughs over the line- cold, bitter,_ _**pained,** and Lee tries again to convince himself he's not the cause of it. "_ _Forget about it? You- you're so fucking naive sometimes Lee."_

_Ah- there it is, the swear word. Maybe he's really gone and done it this time. Pushed the buttons too far..._

 

_Still he tries._

_"I'm sorry okay?"_

_"Lee..."_

_"No- listen. Look, I'm sorry. I got a little overexcited."_

_"Lee Pace-"_

_And he fails._

 

_"What time is it right now?" Lee shifts where he sits, glances around to locate his wall clock. "Oh- It's late. I didn't realize it was this late." His ramble goes on, not giving pause for Richard to speak. "It's- uh, yeah... You still have another take, you should get back to work. I-" Lee's idle hand forms a fist over the material of his slacks, knuckles whitened, fingers numb. "I need to get to bed, I have a reading for Halt in the morning. Gonna hang up now... Um, bye. I love you."_

_Lee taps the screen before Richard has a chance to respond and the line goes dead- the hollow drone of it echoing in his ear._

He remains on the bed; eyes fixed on the ceiling, starring at white until the shade bleeds into his vision. He prods at his phone with his fingers, pushing it further by a slight. As if being away from the device could ease the thoughts running wild in his mind.  

* * *

 

Lee broods for days on end; Richard's lack of contact and his own knack for overthinking forming a lethal combination. He thinks to resolve this by immersing himself in work, letting the little bursts of job satisfaction take away some of the weariness on his face. But it shows, Lee knows it shows. His co-workers ask after him too often; and Lee brushes it off with it smile. _It's okay, it's okay._

_God knows its not._

 

He doesn't even know how to reply when Richard finally texts him. His mind forgetting the words to say, the easy way their conversation should flow. 

 

'Ssup?' _No- sounds terrible_. _Delete._

_'_ Hey! Sorry. Couldn't get back to you earlie-'  _Delete._

_'_ I just jacked off in the bathroom last night. Thinking of you.'  _Gross. What is he? Fourteen?! Delete._

Lee sits with his phone in his hand, lower lip drawn between teeth, in a ceaseless cycle of type and delete, type and delete. 

'Hi.'

He eventually settles for that, hits the send button before he has the chance to regret the limitations of his brain and stares at his phone for the longest time. 

 

Richard's reply is quicker than he expects. 

'Hi.'

'Took you long enough...'

_Oh god._ Lee feels bile creeping up his throat and nearly jumps out of his seat when the device buzzes again.  _Oh god. Oh god._

':)'

 

_Oh-_

 

The putrid taste at the back of his tongue eases and for once Lee finds slight comfort in the distance between them. That Richard can't see his fumbling hands or the shit-eating smile on his face. 

_It's a start, at least... it's a start._

 

The _incident of the photo_ is quickly forgotten when texts turn to short phone calls and then longer ones. Richard never mentions it again, and Lee does not bring it up. A semblance of normalcy returns, Lee gets routinely face-planted on the couch, close to finishing a dozen cans of beer. Somewhere across the globe; Richard is emptying the dregs of a second bottle of wine, slurring. He says he's coming home in a week. Lee wipes stray drool from the corner of his lips, and presses a smile into the phone. The low rumble of Richard's lazy laughter going straight to his chest. 

_Home_ \- Lee decides he likes that word. 

* * *

 

 

They fall back into the impossibly mundane once Richard is back. Dinner- _it's always dinner._ A quiet, lesser known restaurant nearby. And there's always wine on the table, a bottle or two. Just enough for the walk back to the apartment, that enough for the pleasant buzz to linger. 

Lee can't stop talking- wanting to make up for time lost. Richard doesn't mind; he indulges him by listening, watching the animated movement of his hands as he speaks. The topic is half important, Richard keeps a small smile tucked away at the end his lips; counting the crinkles at the corner of Lee's eyes. They've stopped at a street corner, the younger man pausing mid-sentence, cigarette caught between his teeth. One hand fishing for his lighter, no doubt lost somewhere in the abyss of his coat pocket. 

Richard slips his hand into Lee's pocket and retrieves the lighter with ease. "Let me," he cups one hand over the stem of Lee's cigarette; shielding the flame from the onslaught of a mid-winter gust. 

It ignites, spark turning into flame and Lee inhales, lips closing over the filter and hollowing his cheeks. "Thanks," he mutters, lids fluttering; a grin on his face. 

He's about to put the cigarette aside and speak again, when Richard's sudden movement cuts him off. Lee feels a strong hand clasped behind his nape as he's being tugged forwards, almost losing his footing. He tumbles towards Richard and Richard holds him close; presses their lips together-

 

_Time suspends in motion._

_Everything stops._

 

Richard smiles into the kiss, drinking in the surprised little sound that Lee makes. 

 

_Breathe_ .

Lee has to remind himself to breathe. 

 

When Richard finally pulls back, Lee is still standing there. Hands bunched into fists at the hem of his coat, back stiff and eyes wide. The deep ridge of his cupid's bow moist- proof of where Richard's lips had been. 

"Well, I suppose it's not as grand as it should be..." The older man trails off into an awkward chuckle, scrubbing a palm to the back of his nape. 

Lee doesn't move, he doesn't blink. It takes him seconds before his knees dislodge, giving away whatever balance he had left. "W-wha... What was that about?" He blinks, chest expanding and sagging with a rapid exhale. Richard takes him by the arm, pulls him until they're both flush against the stone wall. Away from the street lamps- away from the last signs of any prying eyes. 

"You said to kiss you like that." His fingers curl behind Lee's ear, toying with a lock of hair. 

"I said- _what?_ " The crease between Lee's brows tighten. The grip of his hand, vice on Richard's arm. "W-when did I..." Lee's mouth falls open, Richard watches as surprise fades into realisation; the pale illumination of night catching Lee's eyes in hues of blue and grey. 

 

_Richard's phone beeps, he pulls it out from his pocket and smiles fondly at the initial on the screen. A cryptic 'L.' flashing across with no photo attached to it, their own secret form of identification._

_He taps at the message, tagged with a photo and reads it._

_'Kiss me like that.'_

_His smile falters when the photo loads in full. Times Square crossing- two men, in each other's arms. Locked in a fierce kiss._

_The heavyweighted chill in his chest spikes and helplessness turns into anger when he calls Lee. He's mad, frustrated. It's something they **cannot** do. _

_The despondence in Lee's voice before he hangs up makes it worse._

_Lee doesn't call or text for days. And Richard is kept mind frazzled with The Red Dragon. He picks up his phone a couple of times, instinctively pouring his heart out to Lee. But the photo comes to mind, and the ache in his chest nearly burns. **He cannot. They cannot.**_

_He ends up deleting everything._

_The physical distance takes it's toll- and it's not like Lee to be this quiet._ _Pressure gives way to misery, and his shoulders can no longer hold weight on their own._ _Richard needs him close by; not far off from him._

_He needs him, Lee._

_Needs him, to need him._

_He needs to know if Lee is okay._

 

_Richard sends the first text- something small, something random. And waits..._

_He breathes easier when Lee finally replies him. Short and awkward. A little step; but Richard still smiles. A little step that goes long way._

 

_Text and then calls; some short, others longer. Sometimes when they play into each other's whims of 'sharing a drink', Richard finds himself trailing circles on the empty sheets, missing the warmth of having Lee beside him. And from the way Lee's bubbling laughter dissolves into a long stretch of silence, he must be feeling the same way too._

_"Fuck it, Lee."_

_"Hmm? What?" Lee's sleepy drawl seeps through, and Richard swears he can feel the tingle of his breath. A ghost wisp against the lobe of his ear._

_He laughs. "No- nothing." It **should** be nothing. In the wake of the trail that Lee left (and still leaves) in his life, _ _it really should be nothing- nothing else that mattered. Everything is Lee. From Richard's shoulders that bear the brunt of his nails, the lips and neck that he bestows with kisses and filthy longing. Every inch of Richard, right down to where their bodies join and meet._

_He belonged._

_They belonged._

_Right there and then, in his dimly litted apartment, Richard decides to be._

 

_Be immature._

_Fearless._

_Careless._

_"Fuck it."_

_Run with it._  

And he's paid back in more ways than he imagines when Lee looks at him with such earnesty, and his grip on his wrist loosens and relaxes.

"You've gone mad," Lee's voice drops soft, almost shy; thumb dragging across Richard's wrist. "It- it was just a thought," he bites his lip- those lips Richard would very much like to claim again. In public or in privacy of their home; _both._

"It's not so bad is it?" Richard plants a quick peck to Lee's temple, just in time to see Lee's expression split into a grin. 

"No it isn't..." Richard chuckles, leaning to press their foreheads together. But the moment doesn't last; Lee pushes him away, glancing around them. "It's reckless! Rich- _this_ is reckless!" He tries to keep the rising panic at bay, the heel of his leather boots pattering on the sidewalk. "It was a stupid idea..." 

"It was _your_ stupid idea," Richard retorts, gripping the waistband of Lee's coat, "I want all your stupid ideas, Lee." 

"Rich..." 

The pleading expression that crosses Lee's face, is something Richard is all too familiar with. Love and a crushing fondness, mixed with the awkwardness from Lee's youth that followed him into adulthood. The look that tells Richard that Lee doesn't believe he deserves this. 

But Richard _believes_ ; his conviction is firm, unshakable. 

 

In a swift movement, he grips Lee by the jaw and surges up. Their breaths align and Lee's irises blow by a slight, eyes fixed on Richard's lips; mouth parting by instinct.

"You know what to do." The gutteral sound of his own voice takes him by surprise. But then again, maybe he shouldn't be. With the way Lee fuels all his desires, unravels every bolt of need in him- _aching and raw._ He tilts and dips his head, letting his lips ghost over Lee's jaw. Lee's hand find their way to the small of his back, a low whine escaping his throat. 

"I _want_ you- _m-make me want you…"_  

He thinks of the reward, the prize-in-waiting. He thinks of the many ways Lee will let him have his dues. The way Lee will offer freely, for his taking. More, more than just a taste of his lips. _More._ And Richard will return the favour in kind.

 

_It’s not enough._

_Just kissing him like that isn’t enough._

_Three weeks apart is three weeks too long._

 

_It might never be enough..._

 

Richard releases Lee from his grasp, head tossed back as he turns on his heels. 

 

"Don't make me wait, _Pace_." 

 


End file.
